


A Gadda Da Vida

by snailhands



Series: Revelation Station [1]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood and Gore, Dubious Science, F/F, F/M, Gen, Government Agencies, Human Experimentation, M/M, Other, Science Bros, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 11:24:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7713184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailhands/pseuds/snailhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford makes friends, plays with science and generally ruins a government's plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Gadda Da Vida

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at hunklefordsy.tumblr.com!
> 
> Extra points if anyone understands the title and its reference!

The first thing Ford sees when he opens his eyes is the glowing barrel of a gun. It’s aimed right between his eyes, the nose of it pressing the plastic of his glasses into his furrowed brow. He aches all over and although a quiet part of his mind tells him to do something (“Run! Get up you idiot and run!”) A larger part is almost grateful for the excuse to lie down, even if it may be a permanent nap he’s about to take.   
The figure above him presses their knee into his chest, causing him to wheeze. Their face is completely covered, as is their body, with dark, tatty looking clothing. A scarf is wrapped around their face and their eyes are obscured by a pair of mirrored goggles.   
The cold, hard ground beneath him digs into his back. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Demands the figure, their voice mottled by the scarf. “And what are you doing out here?”

With a grunt, Ford tries to sit up, but the person (he assumes his assailant is human; they have two arms and two legs and that’s good enough for him,) digs their knee in harder, forcing him to stay down.   
“M-My name is S-Stanford Pines.” Ford grunts. He has to pause to cough, the air in this dimension feels like lead in his lungs and it makes his head fuzzy. “I’m lost, I-I don’t know what’s go-going on. I need help.” 

The figure makes a sound akin to a growl and moves to shoot the odd looking gun in their hand, but another figure, one Ford hadn’t noticed before, catches their arm. 

“He’s harmless, Eden. We should take him back to The Den and get him fixed up.” 

The newer person is tall and broad shouldered. Their voice is deep and accented similar to Ford’s. American? His mind supplies as the weight on his chest lessens to nothing. The air is still thick and tacky to breathe, but it’s a little better without someone’s knee crushing his lungs.   
Ford sways where he stands, lightheaded from the transdimensional travelling he’s done and the larger of the two strangers catches him when he stumbles. 

“He’ll die out here,” Says the big one, their voice low. “If the elements don’t kill him, the Wranglers or the Guards will. You know damn well they will.” 

With a disgruntled huff, the shorter one concedes. “Fine. But if he’s a mole for the Guards I’ll kill him before you can even think about flirting with him. Got it?” 

The big one gives their companion a lazy salute before Ford is lifted with ease onto the back of a rickety looking dune buggy.   
He only has time to glance up at the dimly lit orange sky before he feels the cold grip of unconsciousness take over his mind again….

 

 

“....Stanford….Can….Hear me, Stanford?”

The voice is faint but it’s enough to rouse Ford from his deep sleep.   
“Stanley…?” He murmurs, opening his eyes a fraction. A bright white light sears his retinas and he groans, closing them again. 

“Stanford, I need you to open your eyes please….” The voice is clearer now, feminine and sharply accented. “My name is Florence.” 

Ford takes his time, but eventually manages to open his eyes fully. 

He’s staring up at an off-white ceiling lined with dim strip lighting; turning his head, Ford comes almost nose to nose with a pretty young woman in circular glasses. She smiles warmly at him and checks a glowing pad in her hand, seemingly satisfied with what it says. 

“Howzit*?” She asks, tucking her dark hair behind her ear. “You were pretty fucked up when the guys brought you in earlier.” 

Frowning, Ford whets his lips before he speaks. “Where am I?” 

“You’re in The Den, my brother!” She (Florence, Ford reminds himself,) exclaims, pushing herself backwards.   
As Ford sits up with a grunt, still feeling a touch lightheaded, Florence is handing him a glass of dark green liquid, her smile still fixed in place. 

“Drink. It’ll make you feel better.”

Ford does as he’s told, grimacing at the earthy taste. “What the hell is that?” He splutters, close to gagging. 

Florence laughs and takes the glass back. “Ja, taste’s pretty kak** but it’s good for you!” 

Ford grunts in agreement and looks around the room. He’s surprised to note that Florence is seated in some kind of hand customized wheelchair. She catches him staring and chuckles quietly. 

“Not rich enough to get ‘em fixed.” She says, patting her thigh.

Ford flushes pink and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”  
Florence waves a hand dismissively. “It’s alright, don’t worry.” She presses a panel on the wall and speaks into it. 

“Hey, your little boet*** is up guys!” 

Ford frowns, unsure what the girl means. “Where’s that accent from?” 

Florence peers up, the green light of the intercom button casting an eerie glow over her dark skin. “South Africa. At least, that’s what my ma said.” 

Stanford opens his mouth to enquire more, but the door to the little infirmary slides open with a soft whoosh, and Ford finds himself staring at who he assumes are his earlier assailants. 

*********

The first dimension Ford stumbled into was a scrubland. Miles and miles of dark, tangled brush that stretched as far as the eye could see. Fortunately, the air seemed breathable and the atmosphere was similar to Earth's. 

The inhabitants, however, were not. The main creatures that stalked the grasslands were quadrupedal mantis-like beings; Their skin the colour of a deep sea oil slick, their triple sets of yellowed eyes bulging grotesquely from their skulls.   
Stanford couldn't be sure how long he'd spent there, but he was overjoyed to discover a new glowing portal, swirling ominously behind the rock formation he'd been kicked over after a close call with one of the mantis people.   
He'd dragged himself into it desperately, blood pouring from a wound on his cheek as the mantis screeched in anger. 

From there on, that had been his life; Hopping from dimension to dimension, avoiding danger as and when he could manage it and seeking shelter where he could. 

Transdimensional portals were rather like buses, however. Quite often, Ford could go weeks or even months without seeing any kind of activity at all, and then suddenly boom! He’d find three or four new portals would materialize at once. The contacts and friends he’d made throughout the few dimensions he’d been in so far joked that he was playing russian roulette with the universe.   
It was frustrating, but Ford knew if he stood any chance of getting back home again then he had to keep trying….

 

“So you're telling me, you accidentally got pushed into a transdimensional portal six months ago and you've been wandering around ever since?” 

Stanford looks up at the young woman before him. It's clear she and the giant of a man standing beside her were the ones who rescued him from the wasteland outside.   
She's wearing an expression that screams I don't believe a word of this but her friend looks more forgiving.   
He smiles warmly at Ford. 

“Kind of a shitty situation, ain't it?” He says, his voice a deep baritone. “You're lucky we found ya out there, another half hour and you'd be dead as this planet.” 

The girl rolls her eyes and moves aside as Florence shows her the glowing glass screen she’s holding.   
“He's clean, Eden. No sign of any sickness or any implants.” 

She hums and looks Ford over again. “Fine. He can stay, but I'm not happy about it.” 

Stanford huffs a laugh out and returns her once over gaze. “I appreciate it, Eden, wasn't it?” 

Eden narrows her eyes at him but nods to the affirmative.

The big guy beside her extends a hand to Ford. “I'm Vaughn. It's real nice to meet ya, been awhile since we had any new faces in here.” He says, shaking hands with the young scientist. “We'll get you some new clothes and food and stuff in a minute.” 

“Thank you so much, I can't even begin to describe how much this means.” Ford says earnestly. “I haven't seen any humans for some time now….. I was starting to fear I'd never see any again.” 

Florence helps him off the medical scanner’s bed. “That's probably a good thing.” She smirks.

“What do you mean?” 

Vaughn and Florence exchange looks as Eden speaks quietly. 

“What year and planet did you say you were from again?” 

“Uh, Earth Dimension 42. It was 1981 when I got- when the portal sucked me in.” 

Eden makes a noise in the back of her throat and sighs. “Let's get you cleaned up first, I'll explain everything later.” 

——————————————————–——

Vaughn shows Stanford to a large bedroom that's tucked down the hallway from the medical bay. 

“Help yourself to the shower an’ stuff. Clean clothes are on the bed, they ain't nothin’ special but they're better than what you're wearing now.” 

Ford thanks him quietly, a little overcome with the kindness of these strangers, and sets to work cleaning himself up. 

This place is nice…. Ford thinks to himself later, under the hot spray of the shower. Beside the fact that I almost died, I mean. 

It doesn't take him long to freshen up and get changed; whatever Florence did to him with that medi scanner, it worked a treat.   
The borrowed clothes are a little big on him, but they're far more comfortable than his previous wear, and Ford appreciates it more than he can say.   
Airing on the side of caution, the young man pads down the hallway from his designated room. He doesn't want to stride around as though he owns the place, but he doesn't think making anyone jump will serve him well either. 

Ford finds Vaughn, Florence and Eden seated in some kind of communal living area, just past the medical bay. He's taken aback to see a huge, alien figure hunched in a seat besides Eden. It looks like a cross between a deep sea creature and a grasshopper bug from his home dimension.   
He feels his cautiousness heighten until a woman (another new face, his mind chips in) with short, dark hair speaks up. 

“Hey guys, he's back.” 

“Uh…” Ford can feel the heat rise in cheeks as all eyes in the room fall on him. “Hi.” 

Florence giggles, unable to help herself. “He's real cute.” She stage-whispers to Eden.   
Eden doesn't acknowledge her comment, but the new woman scowls. 

Florence catches her gaze and smiles sweetly. “Not as cute as you though, my little bokkie****.” 

The short haired woman nods curtly, eased by the way Florence kisses her hand. 

Grasshopper-fish-thing chirps at Ford. 

“I, um. I don't believe we've met.” Ford says to the alien. “I’m Ford.” 

Grasshopper-fish-thing clicks a little. 

Eden rolls her eyes and stands up. “Ford. This is Abraxas.” She gestures to the alien. “He's a Zoroxian warrior and he's very nice.  
“This is Ina,” she waves a hand at the lady with short hair. “She's grumpy, but Florence likes her so we keep her around.” 

Ina makes a face at Eden but the other girl doesn't rise to it. 

“Feelin’ better than before?” Vaughn smiles up at him from his seat on a beanbag. 

Stanford nods quickly. “I really can't thank you enough for all of this. I thought- I thought I was a goner out there.” 

“You would've been.” Eden folds her arms across her chest, standing directly in front of him. “And if you put a foot out of line, I'll make sure you go right back there faster than you can say ‘help’. Understood?” 

Ford gulps and makes a noise of agreement. “I won't be any trouble, I swear.”   
Eden exhales sharply through her nose before brushing past him and heading the way he came. 

“Don’t mind her,” Vaughn says, gesturing for Ford to take a seat. “She gets nervous around new people.” 

Ford slumps down in the proffered seat and offers the big man a shy smile. “I know how she feels….”

Once Ford is settled, the remaining group begin to fill him in on their dimension. It’s not like anything Ford could’ve predicted; a class divide of huge proportions has opened up since a global chemical war took its toll on the planet. The top 0.01% are comfortably residing in a city of their own design, enclosed and safe from the toxic air that they created with their weapons. During the ‘ChemWar’, as Florence describes it, the majority of Earth’s population was wiped out. The surviving 0.5% were brought together to form the United Empire, multiple areas that consisted of chunks of Western and Eastern Europe, South America, Asia and North Africa. The poorest of people were scattered far and wide, with families being split up simply because there wasn’t enough room for them in a particular sector of the Empire, while the richest of the rich were offered sanctuary in The City.   
The ‘lower’ end of City residents were given refuge for a minimum ‘donation’ of $10,000,000. The ‘mid’ tier were to donate $45,000,000 and the ‘top’ tier $60,000,000. The self titled Elite paid upwards of $100,000,000 and were the most well looked after group of individuals on the planet.   
Of course, this level of wealth came with great detriment to the poorer survivors; Medical care and access to the most basic of things is limited to those outside of The City and everyday is a struggle for survival.   
The Galactic Federation is the main governing body of the surviving planet, with their base located within The City walls. The Federation, however, is as sinister as it sounds.   
Little by little, the newly appointed Commanding General of Forces Command, (“Yeah, that’s a real title.” Vaughn had grinned,) has been trying to eradicate the so called lesser population from right under their noses, with full backing from the Galactic Federation. 

“I’m sorry,” Ford interrupts Vaughn suddenly, unsure if he heard that last part correctly. “Are you suggesting the current government is supporting known genocide of its people?”

Vaughn gives Ford a nasty grin. “I ain’t suggestin’ nothing. I know they are.”

Ford feels his stomach roil at the idea of that but he says silent, afraid that if he opens his mouth then the small amount of food in his stomach might come back up. Vaughn claps him on the shoulder before changing the subject. 

“So,” he starts, shifting in his seat to get a better look at Ford. “You said you fell into a transdimensional portal?” 

Ford nods. “Kinda. My research assistant and I were working on the structure. He left eventually, but I tried to operate it on my own and- well.” He gestures to himself sheepishly. “I've just been hopping from one place to another whenever I can. It's been about six months now, but I could be off.” 

Florence leans forward in her wheelchair. “What's it like back in D42, in the eighties?” 

Ford shrugs, unsure how to explain it. “It's okay, I guess. Better than the past few places I've been,” he smiles sadly. “No offense….” 

Florence waves it off; she knows The Den is a shithole, so Ford carries on. 

“There's a lot of hairspray,” he laughs quietly. “Big hair, bigger shoulder pads.”   
The others laugh, Florence grinning up at Ina. 

“But it's nice…. Was nice.” 

The finality of Ford’s words seems to settle in heavily in the air. Abraxas clicks sadly, his bright yellow eyes cast downward.   
Vaughn is about to say something when a terse voice cuts him off. 

“Flo, I need your help in here.” Eden calls from the elevated walkway beside them.   
Rolling her eyes, Florence dutifully pushes herself up the ramp that's been created for her and follows Eden through the way Ford had come earlier. 

Vaughn smiles when he catches Stanford frowning after the girls. 

“Eden’s a charmer, huh?” 

Ford snaps his gaze back to the floor, embarrassed, and rubs the back of his neck. “She's just being cautious. I don't blame her.” 

Vaughn chuckles. “She'll warm up to you, I promise. Eden’s just… She likes to be difficult.” 

“It's alright, I quite like a challenge.”

**Author's Note:**

> South African translation: 
> 
> *General slang for "How's it going?"  
> **kak = nasty, ew.  
> ***boet = brother. Can be used in condescending way or a friendly one.  
> ****bokkie = 'little buck'. A term of endearment for a loved one.
> 
> I'm not South African nor can I speak Afrikaans very well, so apologies if any of these are wrong!


End file.
